Heero's uncharted battle ground
by NoniMiko
Summary: "The only way to live a good life is to act on your emotions," Heero once told Trowa. With the war finally over and Relena's peace efforts taking root, Heero's perfect soldier mask begins to crack. Will he learn to accept his emotions with the help of the other war torn pilots, or will his emotions lead him to seek the death he had hoped the war would give him? 1x?, 3x4, 5xS, 6xN
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer - To my sorrow I do not own Gundam Wing, and make no claim to.

Warnings - I am not sure where this story will write itself because I am still getting inside Heero's head, but be prepared for some dark stuff, PTSD, self-harm of some kind, emotional distress, etc.

Respectful reviews are welcome and appreciated.

_The heat of his gundam cockpit was almost overwhelming, only his rigorous training kept him from succumbing to heat stroke. So much heat contained in his gundam, so much heat isolated in the otherwise frigidity of outer space. Sweat soaked through his clothes as he fought one more meaningless battle. His mind whirled with Zero's constant stream of data, allowing him to match his opponent's every move. This battle had to end, he had a mission to complete. Then, unbidden the image of a young girl flashed before his eyes, smiling in her sun hat with the untainted happiness of a child._

_"How many times do I have to kill that little girl and her dog. Zero will not tell me anything. Tell me Wufei!"_

_The ache of his heart burst open and physically knocked the air out of him with the force of the memory of that little girl's death. Such a meaningless death. How many more would die at his hands?! The pilot shook his head, directing himself to return his mind to the battle. In war there was no room for destraction. Fortunately his opponent seemed equally lost in his own mind, but that was no excuse, Heero chided himself. He was allowing himself to unravel, he, the perfect soldier was allowing his sanity to fray at its edges. _

_Heero was ripped back to reality as Wufei's voice came over his communicator, "would an incident like that have to be repeated again?" With that last comment Wufei lowered his weapons. Heero waited a moment to make sure Wufei's cryptic comment meant the battle was over, and then set his auto pilot for earth, and Mariemaia's last stronghold. _

_As his gundam descended, his mind wondered again. 'The only way to live a good life is to act on your emotions', that is what he had told Trowa, because that was what Trowa needed to hear at the time. But now it sounded like hypocrisy in Heero's mind, he, who put the mission above all feelings, had counseled the importance of emotion. It was his practiced emptying of emotion he forced over himself now. The mission, THE MISSION! The mission was all that mattered. His life was cheap, his survival unimportant, his emotions obsolete, what mattered was the mission. _

_Heero fell into his perfect soldier mode as if a switch had been flipped. He destroyed Mariemaia's base with Zero's beam canon, held a gun to Mariemaia, and pulled the trigger, allowing the empty barreled gun to fire the last of its gun powder. His own words drifted to his ears as if spoken by another 'I have killed Mariemaia. I will never kill anyone again. I don't have to anymore'. The heat stroke, and exhaustion swamped him and he felt himself slipping away into darkness, wondering why in the hell he was still alive. _

Heero shot up out of his bed, his hands tangled in his sheets, his body and hair damp with sweat. The sweat on his body confused his reality and he fought to decipher where he was, in the battle field again or in his bed. He felt his breath come in rapid gasps as the images from his dream replayed in his mind in fast-forward. The emotions were so real that he felt himself clutching at his chest with the intensity and pain of them. Rage at this moment of weakness rose above the other emotions as he tried to employ the breathing and calming techniques he had learned under Dr. J's tutelage.

The unraveling of Heero's emotional control that had begun at that last battle had only intensified once the war had ended. Without any battles, Heero had no way to atone for the lives he had taken, he had no way of giving that little girl and countless others justice. The memory of his countless victims haunted him day and night. Somehow, without meaning to, he had escaped the war alive. He had intended to use his self detonation device as the final force to break through Mariemaia's stronghold that day, but the bunker fell too soon, making such action unnecessary.

Heero saw black spots clouding his vision, his breathing was still too erratic, and his body was responding to the lack of oxygen. Control. He would gain control. With all his strength Heero heaved himself off his bed, and slammed his fist into the nearest wall, not once or twice but over and over again, letting the pain bring him back to the here and now of his reality.

Quatre sat up in his bedroom, a few doors down from Heero's room, overwhelmed by a feeling of self-loathing that did not belong to him. Awakened by his love's distress, Trowa sat up on his side of the bed and began rubbing Quatre's back, whispering comfort in a soothing tone. Trowa did not know what was wrong with Quatre, but he knew that he would get no answers while Quatre was so shaken up. "Just breathe, Little One, it was a dream. I am here beside you, I am real" Trowa repeated.

"Not a dream" Quatre gasped at least. "Something is wrong with Heero. He is in overwhelming pain".

Needing no further comment Trowa threw the sheets off his body, pulled on his boxers, and headed down the hall to Heero's room, only sparing one furtive glace at his lover, still working to gain control over the strong emotions that were not his own. Trowa ached every time Quatre's empathy affected him in such a way, but Trowa also knew it was a gift, and he wasn't going to let it go to waste. Though Heero had agreed to come live in Quatre's manor with the other pilots after the war, he had kept to himself more than ever, only emerging from his room to pursue preventer business. At first Quatre and the others had tried to get Heero to come with them on their various night life activities, but after continued and strong refusals they had stopped asking for fear of offended Heero and pushing him further away. Trowa shook himself out of his thoughts as he arrived at Heero's door, and cautiously turned the handle.

Blood dripped down his arm as his knuckles split open, and a resounding crack told Heero that the bones in his fist had broken. Yet he was satisfied, as the pain had brought him back to reality and control. Quiet, almost soundless footsteps caused Heero to turn around and come face to face with the piercing green eye not covered by Trowa's length of bangs.

Heero glared down at the intrutor, furious he had been caught in such a moment of weakness. Trowa met Heero's glare with calm seriousness. Before Heero registered what Trowa was going to do, Trowa had stepped forward and took Heero's hand, examining the damage Heero had done to himself.

"It's broken, shattered really" Trowa commented, assessing the injury is a quiet voice.

Heero withdrew his hand from the other pilot and said in the most monotone voice he could muster, "This doesn't concern you, Trowa. Go away".

"That is where you are wrong. Your nightmare disturbed my Little One's sleep. He is concerned for your well being, and I share his concern. This sort of stunt is not like you."

Heero remained quiet for several minutes before saying, in a surprisingly defeated voice, "then I will leave. I'd hate to bother Quatre or anyone else."

Trowa sighed, frustrated at the other's stubbornness. "Heero", he almost pleaded, "you know that is not what I meant. We care about you, and we want you in our home. It only feels right that all of us pilots stay together. You are my brother-in-arms. I don't know what you are going through right now, but that doesn't make me or any of the rest of us unwilling to listen and help where we can. You are not alone."

Alone, that was the only thing Heero was sure of is that he needed to be alone. He ignored Trowa, and the pain in his hand as he began packing up his meager belongings. He had to continue to be strong; he could not be weak in front of Trowa or the others. If this was the beginning of his self-destruction, Heero was determined to do it alone. In a matter of minutes Heero was packed and ready to go, his duffle bag slung over his shoulder. "Give Quatre my apologies" Heero finally responded his emotionless voice firmly in place as he pushed past Trowa and into the hallway.

"Heero!" Trowa exclaimed louder than he meant to, having allowed too much frustration to creep into his voice. "Please don't go, you have to know that is not what I meant."

Heero kept walking, down the main staircase and towards the front door. Trowa threw himself in front of the door and grabbed Heero by the shoulders. "Do you think you were the only one fucked up by the war? Do you really think we won't understand that you can't be perfect forever? Heero, please stay. This is not what I wanted. Let us support you."

Temporarily both men's attention was drawn away has they heard movement upstairs. Heero cursed himself, realizing the scene unfolding between him and Trowa had woken the other pilots, all of whom were light sleepers. If Heero was going to get out of there, it had to be now.

Heero put all the coldness he could into a glare as he met Trowa's eyes and said firmly. "No."

With that last word, Heero landed a strong punch into Trowa's gut, knocking the air out of him, slid past Trowa, and out the front door. Trowa was still trying to catch his breath when he heard Heero's motorcycle come to life and speed out of earshot. Trowa felt one tear of discouragement and frustration slide down his cheek, and he lifted his head to see the other pilots, half asleep, descending the stairs.


	2. Chapter 2

K-chan - I am getting your reviews just fine. Thank you for your support! This update is for you.

A/N - Thank you for all the positive support for this story so far. Hopefully it will be a fun journey to take together. Feel free to share any ideas, comments, etc. :) I am trying hard to keep the boys in character, while leaving room for them to grow up as time passes, because, well most of us change as we grow in one way or another. If any character feels to ooc, please let me know.

Disclaimer - I am not the brain behind the creation of Gundam Wing, just a life-long fan of these beautiful and complicated pilots.

Chapter 2

"What the hell. . . Ahhhh. . . is going on?!" Duo tried to yell indignantly, but his rant was cut through by a loud yawn.

Out of breath, Trowa slid down the front door, clutching his chest. Seeing his love was in pain, Quatre ran the last few steps of the stairs and arrived at Trowa's side.

"Trowa" Quatre said urgently, "is it bad?"

Trowa shook his head, still fighting to put air into the lungs Heero had slammed air out of.

"Who attacked you, Trowa? Was there a break in? Are they still in the house?" Duo demanded. Duo's questions were echoed by Wufei, albeit in a less direct manner.

Quatre glared momentarily at the braided boy and then said, "Everyone be quiet. I will explain what I know, and once Trowa has caught his breath he can finish."

"I'm *weeze* fine, Quatre" Trowa forced out, his breathing starting to become more regular.

Quatre stroked Trowa's hand affectionately and then reminded the others of his growing concern for Heero's well being, and how the culminated in Quatre waking up tonight feeling Heero in some kind of great pain, some sort of strong self-loathing.

"I went to Heero's room to check on him after Quatre explained what he was feeling" Trowa cut in. "When I opened the door Heero was punching his wall and didn't appear to realize I was there. He punched it a few more times and then stopped, and looked down at his hand, which was bleeding after hitting the wall. The hole in the wall is. . . large. . . so it stands to reason that he had punched it many times. When Heero stopped I think he heard my foot-steps, because he turned around to face me. He looked both ashamed and relieved, but he slipped on a mask of anger as soon as he saw me." Trowa paused for air, and then continued to explain how he had tried to get Heero to talk to him, and how Heero and misunderstood Trowa's words, packed up, and left on his motorcycle.

The story sounded so out of character for the calm and collected Heero, that Trowa's audience was stunned into silence for a moment.

"I don't think he misunderstood you, Trowa" Quatre said thoughtfully. "I think Heero was looking for any excuse to leave. You caught him in a moment of weakness we never imagined him having. I don't think he took being caught well."

"I didn't think that guy had any weaknesses" Wufei admitted, honor for Heero plain in his voice.

"With the intensity of his self-loathing that I felt last night, I am afraid that Heero might have agreed with you for once. I imaging that finding out his weaknesses now probably hasn't gone very well for him."

Duo slid to the floor with a loud thump. "Well I'm be damned. I feel so ashamed. I figured Heero was just being he ever charming and social self. I never thought to wonder if he was okay keeping to himself so much."

Wufei leaned against the wall with his eyes closed. "I see it now – Heero stripped of his missions would be like when I lost sight of my sense of justice."

"Or when I lost my faith in us gundams being able to make a difference" Duo added, thinking of the time he spent with Hilde on the scrape yard, sure space was lost to Oz for good.

"When I lost my memory" Trowa whispered.

"When I lost my father" Quatre finished, leaving the room still. Each ex-pilot was lost in thought and the realization that the loss of purpose they had each experienced during the war, Heero was experiencing now that there are no wars to be fought.

"I don't think the matter is as simple as giving Heero a new purpose" Trowa voiced. "When I lost my memory I went back to the circus, and though I had a purpose there, I still had the feeling that the purpose I found was a stand in for something I had lost".

"But wouldn't the preventer's missions provide that stability of purpose that the war did for Heero?" Wufei asked, pointing out the gaping hole in their argument.

"Yes, it would" said Quatre distractedly, "unless. . . "

The other ex-pilots waited with variably degrees of patience for Quatre to finish his thought, all convinced Quatre was on to something.

"Unless. . . " Quatre repeated, and then his thoughtful expression fell, replaced with one of fear, "unless the perceived weakness Heero has found in himself interferes with his ability to completed missions."

"Or let past missions lie" Trowa finished.

"PTSD?" Duo asked, disbelieving.

"Maybe that's part of it" Quatre replied.

"I think we should call Sally" Wufei responded.

"We need to find Heero!" Duo said impatiently, making as if to get his coat for the closet.

"And what would we do if we did find him right now, Duo?" Trowa threw back. "He obviously doesn't want to talk about it to us. If we don't get more information about how to help Heero, we will waste our one chance to talk to him once we find him."

"DAMN IT!" Duo yelled, which everyone in the room knew to be his version of 'yea, you are right'.

* * *

Heero blinked his eyes in momentary confusion. He had intentionally not slept during the last week since he left Quatre's. He wanted to avoid dreaming at all costs, though he couldn't help but sense the childishness of his own actions. However, in the last few days there were spans of time he could not account for. He could only conclude that he was blacking out from lack of sleep and food.

Heero had not had a destination in mind when he left Quatre's, and had ended up settling in a forest only a valley away. He knew he should leave earth, but such an endeavor would take more of a presence of mind than he could currently give the task. This fact, more than anything else, propelled Heero out of his lethargy and into action. _Mission accepted - get food and means to get off the earth and go into space under false identification._

Returning to the other pilots and facing their opinions of him after his disgrace never crossed Heero's mind as an option. Through this uncharted battled ground, he planned to forge on alone. He never imagined the others would understand, accept, or care about him after seeing such weakness.

Heero broke the small camp he had been living in for the past week with a fast burning vigor, kindled from his self-loathing, and the need to not be found out. He threw his duffle bag back on him motorcycle, revved the engine, and took the dirt path towards the nearest town and further from the other pilots.

* * *

"Damn it! Where the fuck is he!" Duo exclaimed, slamming Quatre's kitchen table in frustration.

"Fucking yelling about isn't going to solve anything, Maxwell!" Wufei yelled while glaring at the braided pilot.

"Of all times, now is an important one to keep a cool head" Trowa said calmly.

"Trowa is right" Quatre replied.

"I know, Q-man. I'm sorry. I just feel so useless. Heero needs us, and all I can do is sit here failing to find him."

"Let's have a report of what we know so far" Quatre said, taking command of the room.

"Sure thing. No surveillance tapes belonging to the preventers or anywhere else on earth I could hack into have picked up Heero as himself or any disguise I could think of him using." Duo announced defeatedly.

"His name or any of the pseudonyms he has used before have come up in any data, internet message, financial transaction, or any other sort of electronic exchange." Trowa reported.

"All private, commercial, and preventer air craft are accounted for, both those capable of traveling to the colonies and those that are earthbound. Heero has not logged into the preventer data base, sent any messages to the office, or accessed any of his computer files there." Wufei added.

"He has not been seen traveling in space, entering or exiting a colony, or contacting any of our known acquaintance, though everyone has been informed to keep a look out for him. Miss Relena requested the opportunity to put Heero out as missing on public record and make a statement, but we discouraged her from doing so because drawing attention to Heero is obviously the last thing he wants. Miss Relena agreed to wait" Quatre said, finishing the summary of the pilot's search so far.

"So basically we know a whole lot of nothing" Duo sighed.

"Then I think it's time for some honesty" Sally said to no one in particular. "You boys have done as thorough a search as we would have done in the war, except you all have individually left out an important detail that changes everything. Forgive me for being the one to point this out, but since the war, all four of you have come to see me, in my capacity as a doctor, to discuss the struggles you have had adapting to post-war life. And by your own admission, all of you have chosen to keep this a secret from each other."

As if on cue, Trowa, Quatre, Duo, and Wufei all stared at the floor. Quatre's cheeks turned pink, Trowa's one visible green eye glistened, Duo felt a tightness in his chest, and Wufei cursed his love for that onna.

"I understood the strength of pride it took to be a gundam pilot, and the pain it undoubtably caused you to come talk to me. I also know that the only pilot who did not come to me was Heero. If I am right, he didn't talk to anyone. What would you do, each of you, if you were still living with your war demons all alone?"

Silence echoed around the room for several minutes. Finally Quatre spoke, "I thought I was the only one, that I struggled because I was the weakest among the pilots. If that is how I felt then Heero. . . I was a coward to not come forward. If I chose to be more brave, Heero might have known he was not alone."

Sensing Quatre was finished Trowa moved forward and enveloped him into a hug, and whispered, "Little One, if you were any more brave, your gundam would have had to be a lion. Faced with the truth, you were the first to speak up. I have so much to learn from you."

"We'll find him, Q-man" Duo said, coming and putting a hand on Quatre's shoulder. "We owe him that, and a lot more."

Sally walked over to her still stunned boyfriend and took his hand, showing the presence of mind and strength Wufei had learned to love so much about her. "That guy built himself into someone unbreakable, and convinced me right along with himself that it was true" Wufei said, gaze fixed upon the floor.

Sally squeezed Wufei's hand, reminding herself that this moment was not the time for tears. "I think we helped build Heero into the hero that we needed. Now I think it is up to us to show Heero he is human, and that being human is okay."


	3. Chapter 3

A/N - Thank you for your reviews, interest in the story, and patience with yours truly. Enjoy! Respectful reviews and feedback are always appreciated. Oh and as a note, Heero will be going by a pseudonym partway through this chapter. In order to not be confusing, I will only refer to Heero by that pseudonym when he is being spoken to or being thought about by people who only know Heero by the pseudonym. The rest of the time I will just call him, Heero.

Chapter 3

Using a mixture of his emergency funds, and his talent for theft, Heero managed to dye his hair an almost black brown, procured a pair of fake glasses, and obtained false identification. He had become accustomed to remaking himself at a moment's notice during the war. Possessions generally meant little to him – the few things he had been weak enough to get attached to he had brought with him in his duffle bag.

Heero had kept moving for a few more days before settling down in a town that still held to the culture before the colonies. The comings and goings of its people were quiet and simple, everyone absorbed in their own tasks and lives. Heero liked this atmosphere, just enough people around that a new arrival would not be marked upon, while the town was sleepy enough that he could find places to be alone.

Heero had found himself a dingy apartment a day after he had come to town. The "furnished" apartment had a squeaky spring-mattress bed, chipped and stained table, and one lone rickety chair. The level of dirt and dust in the apartment only increased once Heero moved in. He took to pacing around and around the room, a movement that mirrored his spinning, circular thoughts. Sometimes he tried to numb the pain with drinking, other times he let the pain wash over him, deeply hoping it would give him the courage to finish what the war had started and take his own life. The idea of his own death was as desirable as ever, however Heero still found himself unable to do the deed. He harbored no illusions or concerned about death, but giving up his life just because he was tired of living it was too selfish of an act for the selfish Heero to feel at peace performing.

When pacing the apartment no long eased Heero's anxiety, he took to pacing the town and nearby woods. He spent his days taking risks of different sorts, trying to find some task that he could perform to aid someone else while dying in the process. This desire led Heero to do a string of odd jobs around the town – lumbering, hunting and herding, working at the electrical and solar energy plants, operating heavy machinery, and even a digging job at a local mine. None of the jobs lasted for more than a few days, and then Heero would move on. The days passed, and Heero became more and more frustrated at his continual existence. He tried to make all of the physical labor and risks he performed even harder by attempting them with little to no sleep and food to sustain him – but his body could not been untaught the lessons and need for survival that Dr. J had instilled.

Heero was contemplating these very lessons while walking down the shoulder of highway one afternoon. He was so lost in thought that he didn't realized the broken down truck pulled over on the shoulder until he almost ran into it, or the grey haired man tinkering underneath the smoking mass.

Almost at once Heero felt himself slide into soldier mode and his hands ached to tinker with machinery. _Mission accepted, _Heero thought. He cleared his protesting throat, that hadn't been used since he left Quatre's, and croaked towards the elderly man, "I can fix that".

The man lifted his head towards Heero, thick bushy eyebrows and a bushy mustache obsecured most of his eyes and mouth. Seeing Heero, the man's scowl quickly transformed into the practice polite smile of someone used to working with customers. "What's that, young man?"

Heero cleared his throat again, "I can fix your truck".

The man looked quizzically at Heero for a minute, surprised a bit by the young man's abrupt speech and the certainly of his statement.

The old man chuckled, "Thank you, lad, but I am afraid she's a goner. I own me-self a fine mechanic shop, and I know I lost cause when I see one."

Heero fought the impulse to growl at the man. He would not have told the man he could fix it if there was any doubt. Heero was not used to anyone doubting his abilities to fix things – everyone always expected him to do impossible things; that was his mission.

The old man chuckled again, "Ah, but I see you disagree with me. Feel free to have a look at her, unless you have some place else to be."

Heero shook his head, and the old man moved out from under the truck, gestured at it with his arms and said, "By all means, have at her."

Without another word Heero took the man's place, took a pen light out of his pocket, and surveyed the damage to the truck. In less than a minute Heero found the problem, a section of wiring that had melted. The summer heat and the age of the truck worked against all the care the old man had obviously given the it. Heero quickly deduced that for long term purposes the wiring would have to be replaced.

At the moment the man's bushy mustache poked into view and said with a smile, "Any luck there, lad?"

Without looking away from the delicate re-wiring Heero worked on, he responded in a mono-tone, "You used bad wire to patch this spot by the engine last and it has melted through. I can do a bit of re-wiring, enough to protect your engine from permanent damage, and for you to drive it a ways, but eventually those wires are going to melt under the increased current because they aren't built for it."

"Damn those kids" the man muttered. "That is what I get for allowing those lazy boys to work in my shop, taking short cuts always leads to errors! Well they won't have a job in the morning to be sure!" he went on.

Heero finished the re-wiring, unsure of how to respond to this man's strong emotion. Sliding out from under the truck Heero cleared his throat and said, "Your truck should be able to drive back now."

Heero made to continue walking down the road when the man exclaimed, "Leaving without letting me thank you properly? Besides, I can't make heads or tails of this wiring that you did – I could use your help in sorting it out when we get back. You know your way around machinery, that's plain, but not vehicles like this, your wire patch is not the kind I would have thought of for an automobile."

Shrugging Heero agreed to come along.

The truck ride was quiet, a silence that Heero couldn't decide whether it was uncomfortable or not. The old man didn't appear to expect Heero to talk, and had just turned on the radio and hummed along. Heero stared out the window, slightly surprised by how refreshing the cool air felt on his face.

Occasionally Heero felt the man's eyes on him, but they still said nothing to each other.

After almost 40 minutes Heero felt the truck slow down, and saw they were pulling in to a well kept auto-shop, beautiful in its presentation and organization, all except the cluster of young men outside the garage, snickering and smoking cigarettes, obviously ignoring the partly worked on vehicles lined up in the garage.

"Laugh all you want, boys, I'll be laughing tomorrow morning when I think about how four stupid boys lost themselves a great tradesman internship by being lazy scuts. Now get out of here before I decide to sue you for the property damage towards my sweet Beth-ann because of your short cuts in attending her."

The thug-like boys moved toward the old man, but before they had moved more than a few steps, Heero was on them, slamming his fist into them, winding them as he had Trowa many nights before. Heero had only beat two of the four boys before they got the hint and all fled.

The old mechanic was divided between gratitude towards Heero for keeping things from getting out of hand, and frustration at now being so shorthanded around his shop, with many orders waiting to be met. He sighed, thanked Heero for his help, and went to his office to start leafing through his small pile of job applications he had recieved over the last few months.

Heero still stood where he had been beating the four young men, slightly confused about what he had done. On instinct he had beat them, they had been in the way and once Heero had adopted the mission to help the old man, it had become part of it to take care of those lazy hands. _Am I only good for serving the purpose of hurting others?! _Heero raged inside, though his nails digging into his callused palms were the only outward sign of his turmoil.

With his anger, and a growing shame at his destructive nature, Heero turned to leave the auto garage when he saw all the cars that were in need of servicing. His hands still hummed with the enjoyment of tinkering with the man's car, and his soul begged him for an opportunity to be useful. Unable to find words, and not wanting to be refused permission, Heero walked further into the garage and began working on the nearest vehicle, which he quickly discovered had a damaged battery.

About an hour later, the old man straightened the pile of applications, and stood up from his desk, feeling defeated. None of the other applicants had the experience to deal with the demand his garage serviced, and taking time to train any applicants he did accept would make him lose customers. He was getting on in years, and lived alone, he could not afford to lose business. Unable to come to a decision presently, the man decided to get to work on the cars already in his shop. If he worked through the night he should be able to get most of them done before the customers came to pick up their cars in the morning. _Getting my hands dirty will keep my mind off this mess for awhile, better than brooding here in my office anyway. _

Coming out of his office, the man only took a few steps before he looked up and realized the lad was still there, and that several of the cars in the garage appeared to have been serviced. Quietly the man walked to the nearest car, the one with a faulty battery and saw that the car had been repaired - though instead of replacing the battery as he would have done, the young man had rewired and more or less rebuilt the battery to solve the problem.

The man examined Heero's work on this car, and on four more cars Heero had obviously serviced, thinking,_ This is certainly not how I would have gone about the repair, but it works, it really works. This lad has an extraordinary talent with cars, mayhaps with machines in general. He doesn't just understand how the parts fit together; he understands what the part is meant to do and how it works with all the other parts, and how the whole machine functions together. This is extraordinary; he is extraordinary.  
_

Only when Heero finished the sixth car did he realize the old man watching him. He was surprised and a bit ashamed by how immersed he had been in the repair, and how unobservant he had allowed himself to be. Heero stood then, looking at the man and waiting for a reprimand of some kind. Instead, the man came over to Heero with his hand outstretched, "I'm Enson, Enson Millar".

Heero paused for a moment, leaving Enson's hand in the air before awkwardly stretching out his own, and shaking Enson's hand, "Andrew Maxwell".

"Do you live around here, Andrew?" Enson asked.

"I came to town a few weeks again. Here is as good of a place as any be" Heero replied avasively.

"What brough you to town? Are you looking for work?"

In response Heero looked at the floor, his posture and manner tense. He did not want to be asked questions.

Enson sensed the boy didn't want to be asked questions. "I will get to the point, Andrew. I have just recently found myself without a staff of mechanics at my garage. I have been watching you work and looked over the cars you have already serviced, and I am impressed. You have done the repairs more economically, and quickly than I could have done. If you are interested and available, I would love to hire you. at least temporarily, to help me meet my customers' needs until I can sort out hiring and training some new hands. Are you interested?"

Heero shrugged, and looked up from the floor. Seeing he had the boy's attention Enson continued, "I have enough to pay you decently, since you will be replacing four of my workers. We can set your wage depending upon how the first few days go. You seem to have a grasp for the repair work, so I would leave that to you while I worked on the cleaning and maintenance of the vehicles - cleaning and tuning up are a guaranteed part of any servicing at this garage. You could come in around 9am, and see what work we had for the day,and say tentatively plan on working until 6pm or so. What do you think?"

Heero was silent for a moment, analyzing the several possible outcomes of the decison. Then Heero looked Enson in the eye and said, "Okay", before turning around and working on the seventh car.

Enson shook his head at the quiet young man, and wondered what troubled him so much. Getting a good look at him now, Enson could see how thin Heero was. When Heero looked Enson in the eyes, Enson had not failed to see the dark circles under Heero's eyes, the slack and sunken-ness of his skin, or the tension in his muscles. This boy was obviously carrying a heavy burden with him, perhaps several heavy burdens. But rather than prying, Enson got to work vacuuming and washing the cars Heero had already serviced - Enson would wait for the young man's story until he was ready to tell it, and in the mean time there was work to be done.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N - A special thanks to anyone who is still reading this fic! I love it dearly, but with the slow speed in which it is coming together, I understand it can be trying your patience.

Chapter 04

Days steadily morphed into a week as Heero continued to work at Enson's auto-shop. Heero still said next to nothing all day, but since Enson wasn't much of a talker, Heero's stoic quiet suited him just fine. The young man repaired vehicles according to his own rules, but Enson couldn't deny that the boy's methods worked - by repairing and reworking the broken parts, Heero was saving the time and money both Enson and the vehicles' owners would have to pay in ordering and installing replacement parts.

At first Heero kept working until Enson insisted he go home for the day far after the agreed upon 6pm. Heero wasn't used to the idea that work could be paused, and continued tomorrow - there was not pause in war. After the first day, Heero left the shop when he was ordered to, like a good soldier. Before Enson could offer a ride, Heero began to walk back to his apartment. However, the Heero that arrived to work the next day, wore the same clothes as the day before, rumpled, and his face held bloodshot, sleepless eyes. Enson concluded that the lad, for whatever reason, had not made it home. Heero's sickly countenance testified he had also not eaten or been eating. Enson felt pangs of fatherly affection and concern throughout that second day each time he looked at Heero. As the day drew on, Enson started to notice Heero's soldierly and mechanic way of following and carrying out orders. Throughout the day Heero had not stopped his work once, either to eat or take a break of any kind.

At the end of the workday, instead of telling Heero to go home, Enson ordered Heero to come with him as they walked to a local diner down the street. Heero found himself following Enson's militaristic order on instinct and before really contemplating his actions, had arrived at diner before it occurred to him to make an objection - an order was an order.

"Hey boys!" an overly bubbly young waitress chattered as Enson and Heero found a table. "I am Trisha and I will be your lovely waitress this evening. What'll it be tonight?"

"Two beers from the tap for my buddy and I" Enson replied easily, sparing the waitress an easy grin.

"And to eat tonight?" Trisha replied, with a wink to Enson.

Noticing the Heero's attention had wondered to out the window Enson replied, "Two orders of pot roast, as big as you'll give us."

"Two big boys like yourselves need to keep up your strength. I will get that right out to you."

Any hopes Enson had that the charming waitress would interest Heero were dashed by Heero's complete lack of acknowledgement for her. Enson guessed Heero wasn't being rude, and couldn't help but he jealous of Heero's natural ability to pull off the 'strong and silent type' that women these days seemed t go for. After his wife's death in the war, Enson had never had the heart to remarry, but that never stopped him from noticing a pretty girl.

As they waited for their meal, Enson unfolded a newpaper, and sipped his beer. Feeling eyes on him, Enson looked up into Heero's questioning blue eyes. "Don't worry lad, I don't need you to be entertaining me. I just wanted company for dinner."

Tension Heero didn't know he was holding slid out of his shoulders - small talk always made him uncomfortable with all of its off-handed personal questions. Nodding his gratitude, he returned to looking out the window. Trisha returned with their steaming plates of pot roast and and the two men ate dinner in an easily quiet, neither being a man free with his words. Without needing to make a verbal agreement, in the days that followed, Heero understood he was to accompany Enson to the diner each day when the shop closed, eat dinner with him, and then walk back to the autoshop where Enson would then drive him home.

Heero had tried to make an objection to this arrangement when Enson motioned for Heero to follow him to the diner at the end of their next workday. He had just managed to open his mouth when Enson put his hand up for silence and said, "Young man - I am a lone man getting on in his years. Only God knows how many more winters I will get to keep living, don't deprive me of the opportunity to make my time left mean something."

Taken aback, Heero stared at his feet, lost for words. Though he didn't understand why Enson thought life was so valuable or full of meaning, Heero did not try to object to eating dinner with Enson again.

After a week passed, Heero began to show up to the autoshop on his motorcycle instead of on foot so Enson wouldn't have to drive him home. Enson smiled at Heero's apparent statement of independence for Enson, and continued to have Heero come to the diner with him after workdays.

Most of Heero's paychecks went to paying for his apartment, which he rarely spent time in, and for the gas it took to ride his motorcycle through the surrounding forest and mountains at night, chasing away nightmares. The biting cold air of the mountains kept him awake long after his body had begun to beg for sleep. Caffeine also became Heero's ally on this new battlefield, supplying him with the stimulation and false sense of energy to keep up his escape from his crumbling reality. When the forests failed to distract him from his thoughts, alcohol took the opportunity to sink it's claws deeper into Heero's life became a companion on his nightly travels. If he could not run far enough away from himself, he would sure as hell make sure he was so plastered that there would be no room for a coherent thought in his head.

Despite Heero's self-imposed physical and mental abuse, his work in Enson's shop remained unparalleled in excellence and efficiency. It didn't take very long for Enson to realize that this God-sent mechanic was in need of a miracle of his own. Enson ached as he watched the young man slowly tearing at his seams. Though Heero had not continued to lose weight, his dinners with Enson were not enough to help him gain any of his lost weight back since his meals with Enson were the only time he ate anything at all.

Three weeks into their arrangement, it was obvious that Heero was under the influence of alcohol when he came to work. Since Heero was able to complete his tasks even while under the influence, Enson found no way to discuss the issue with him without fearing that he would scare the young man off.

By week five, Heero was undeniably ill - feverish and dehydrated. He struggled to keep down the meal he shared with Enson each night, and obviously was sleeping next to nothing at night. Still, in his perfect soldier mode. he put all of his energy into his work at the auto-shop and continued for awhile to put out fantastic repair and maintenance results on all the vehicles the shop serviced. Customers were tipping Heero for saving them money and making the vehicles more efficient than before the repair.

Enson, once a civilian soldier in the war, continued to grow in empathy and fatherly affection for Heero. To Enson, Heero's habits and behaviors gave him away as the soldier he never admitted to being. In his spare time Enson began to research alcoholism and PTSD (post-traumatic stress disorder) in soldiers. The more research he did, the more Enson was painfully aware that the young man was going to had to admit there was a problem before any real treatment could be done, which meant for now Enson had to stand by impatiently. The last thing he wanted to do was scare off this flighty lad with some sort of intervention. Enson told himself that once Heero hit rock bottom, he would be there to hold Heero up.

Rock bottom came a few days before Heero's two month mark of employment, when Heero passed out in the shop, in the early evening. Having made preparations for such an occurrence, Enson closed up the garage, and brought Heero into the part of the building where Enson lived, and laid him on a worn, dark blue couch.

_Thank God the war taught me basic medical care _Enson thought, as he rigged up a fluid IV and threaded it into Heero's arm. For now, Enson would let Heero sleep - when he woke again, detox from alcohol would begin whether Heero liked it or not.

Collapsing onto his bed, Enson turned on the television to help him unwind. Normally the news put him right to sleep, but as Enson was nodding off he was startled awake by seeing a picture of the lad, Andrew, flashing across the screen, and hearing Miss Relena make a top priority missing person's report to the earth's sphere.

"A great hero of our past era, the gundam pilot, Heero Yuy, has been reported missing in action. We believe he is ill and in need of medical assistance. On behalf of this great nation, and my own heart - I ask, no I beg, for your assistance in helping me find my dear friend. No one man did more for the effort of securing peace than Heero did. We as a nation owe him our support in this time of need. If you have any information on his whereabouts, please call the number below. Thank you."

Enson sat staring at the television This Heero looked identical to his emaciated Andrew Maxwell in the other room. _If this Heero changed his name, he obviously doesn't want to be found. I cannot just turn him over to these people, until I get more of the story. _

Stepping outside, Enson took out his pocket phone and dialed the number given. Enson was on hold for over twenty minutes before a human voice answered.

"Hello?" responsed a tired female voice.

"Yes, I am calling for a Mr. . . . Winner?"

"This is the Winner residence. I am Iria Winner. What did you need with my brother?"

"I was told on the news this evening that I should phone this number if I had any information on the location of a missing soldier known as Heero Yuy."

"Yes?" Iria responded, her voice suddenly perk with anticipation.

"Well" Enson said, a bit uncomfortably, "I think he is currently asleep in my living room".

"Oh my God. . . please hold on just a moment?"

Enson heard a muffled on the other line _Quick, get Quatre, this call is for real! The caller knows where Heero is!_

Faster than Enson anticipated there was fumbling on the line and an a young man's tenor voice said urgently, "Hello? Did you say you know where Heero is, Mr. . .?"

"Just call me Enson. I don't know any Heero, but as I told the little lady before, there is a young man staying with me who calls himself Andrew Maxwell and looks identical to the photo of your Heero Yuy, albeit a bit more undernourished."

_Maxwell _Quatre thought, his heart racing_. No, the last name is not a coincidence, this has to be Heero. Undernourished?_

Recovering his composure Quatre said into the phone, "Please Enson, tell me everything."

"Well Mr. Winner, I think the situation is a bit complicated. I care about Andrew, and he needs caring for right now. I don't know you, and I don't know what you want with him. I would like to meet with you, get a measure of you, and we can sort this whole thing out face to face."

Quatre paused only momentarily, his discomfort quickly turning into gratitude for this Enson's protection of their Heero. "Yes, of course. I can clear my schedule for anytime. Would you be opposed if I came to visit?"

"I think it would be better Mr. Winner, if I came to see you. Andrew is ill right now and staying at my house. I would perfer to talk away from here. I doubt he has much strength to run, but if he is who you think he is, I wouldn't put it past him to try. I can see to it that Heero stays put for a day. Would 10am at your residence work for an appointment, Mr. Winner?"

Quatre frowned again but said quickly, "Yes, of course. There are others who are party to finding and ensuring the safety of Heero, do you object to them attending our meeting?"

"Not at all."

"10am it is. I look forward very much to talking to you, Enson. Thank you for giving me hope."

Quatre put down the receiver and looked a this lover who had apparently heard the news and was now by Quatre's side. "Tro, someone has found Heero and is taking care of him. We still have a chance to make things right".

Trowa smiled at his boyfriend and enveloped him in a hug. Trowa felt his own heavy heart lift at the news.

Enson put down the phone, and then wondered back into the living room to check on Heero. To Enson's disappointment, Heero's fever was still high, and his body had begun to shake slightly, though he appeared to still be unconscious.

"Withdrawal setting in already" Enson sighed, putting a cloth on Heero's forehead. "You have been drinking much more than even I imagined, Andrew. Now let's see if we can manage to get your better".

Enson loaded Heero's IV with more fluids, a fever reducer, and a strong sedative, "Sleep now Heero, withdrawal will haunt you soon enough - no harm in waiting another day for it while I go visit your friends and we all figure out what to do for you".

Enson gave Heero's arm a soft, encouraging squeeze and trotted off to his bedroom to get a little bit of sleep before his early morning drive to the Winner Mansion and hopefully some answers.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N - This chapter is a bit long, but there wasn't a great place to chop it up, so enjoy! Snowy, thank you so much for your support of this fic' it really means a lot! I am glad you are still enjoying it. :)

As always, I appreciate respectful reviews.

Chapter 05

Enson's alarm rang at 5am. Groaning with the effects of getting on in years, Enson turned off the alarm and ambled off into the shower. The hot water brought wakefulness to his sleepy brain as it always did, and he remembered why he had gotten up so early - _Andrew, or was it Heero? The lad, _Enson settled on, as he pulled on comfortable clothes.

In the kitchen he made himself a large plate of toaster waffles, and drank an equally large glass of orange juice, twice. Enson loved breakfast; it was like a pat on the back to get the day started. As Enson finishing his last syrupy bite, he jumped, startled by a groan coming from the living room.

"Andrew?!" Enson exclaimed, pushing up from the table too fast, and slamming his knee on the table. With the amount of sedative Enson had given him, Enson had intended the lad to be out cold until that evening. Cursing, Enson hurried to the living room, and saw that Heero's eyes were fluttering open as his thin arms waved in the air, and moan-like mutterings escaped him.

"Andrew!" Enson said again, in a sharp and ordering tone, trying to keep concern out of his voice. "Soldier, report."

Heero's eyes opened entirely, but his gaze was unfocused, and glazed. Tears pooled at the corners of his eyes and he moaned broken apologies to unnamed people. "I killed you. . . your dog. . . innocent. . . forgive me. . . I'm murderer. . . killer. . . worthless. . . sorry. . . so so sorry. . . all my fault. . . failure. . ." was the last words Heero uttered before he fell into broken sobs, still apparently unaware of Enson's presence.

On the verge of tears himself, Enson leaped onto the couch and pulled Heero into his arms. As if Heero was his own son, Enson rocked the shaking boy, and whispered soothing gibberish, praying that some of it was reaching the place where Heero was lost in. This war-torn boy was undoubtedly Heero Yuy.

Realizing his mistake, Enson panicked. He had sedated Heero heavily, and thus trapped him inside the nightmares Heero had obviously been trying to avoid at all costs. Enson shivered at the thought of what kind of nightmares could haunt a gundam pilot, especially this one.

Suddenly Heero's body began to seize in Enson's arms. Instinct took over, and Enson shoved part of the blanket in Heero's month so he wouldn't bite through his tongue, and held him until the seizure passed. It would have been best not to hold Heero, but there was not way for Enson to remove himself without fear of causing injury to the lad. After when felt like an hour the seizure was over. Enson cursed, this was not a reaction to the sedative. Hallucinations . . . seizures? Gently he put his hand on Heero's head, and cursed again. Instead of the sweating he had read was common with alcohol withdrawal, Heero seemed to be continuing to burn up. Sliding his fingers down to Heero's throat, and felt Heero's pulse racing far above normal. From the research he had done, Enson felt a lump form in his throat as he pieced the symptoms together and arrived at a conclusion - delirium tremens (DTs) with seizures. This rare and potentially deadly form of withdrawal needed treatment that Enson could not give. Fear gripped him, followed by determination - he would not let this boy die.

Carefully he slid Heero off his lap, and laid him on the couch again. Then, with quick and deliberate movements Enson made a bed for Heero in the backseat of his truck, and packed up the medical supplies. As he made preparations, a plan formed in his head. _I cannot leave Andrew alone, not like this. But I don't know if I can trust this Winner and his friends. I will bring Andrew along, and set him up at a hotel nearby with as much fluid and fever reducer as I can give him safely. Then I will meet with Mr. Winner - if he proves trustworthy, I will take him to Andrew, I mean Heero. If not, I will take Andrew to the hospital myself. A poor lonely old man like me doesn't need much with an army pension. If I can save this boy's life, I will gladly work to support myself until the day I die. God will never be able to fault me for letting this lad die. _

By 6:15am Enson had Heero and all the supplies he could think of loaded in his truck. Muttering a quick prayer to whichever God was listening, Enson began the three and a half hour drive to the Winner mansion.

Fortunately at the early hour, there was little track to get in the way of Enson's lead foot. _If there has ever been a good excuse for speeding this is it - someone's life depends on it. _

Throughout the drive Heero continued muttering, moaning, and whimpering - trapped inside sleep and wakefulnesses limbo, where is dark memories grew a demonic life of their own. Part of Enson wanted to turn up the radio and drown out the boy's moans, but the rest of him rejected that idea quickly as both inhumane and unproductive. If he wanted to help Heero, how was the time to gather as much information as possible about the demons that drove him to seek sleeplessness, and a courtship with the bottle.

Enson only stopped once, and that only being when Heero had a mini seizure. By the time he had pulled to the side of the road and climbed in the back seat, the episode was almost over - fortunately Heero had not bit his tongue. Enson held the fevered boy after the tremors had passed briefly before continuing to drive with renewed vigor.

Even with the stop, Enson made it to Winner's town in just under three hours. He drove around for a bit, finding a motel where he could discretely leave Heero safely. Finding a nice place, where he could get access to his room from the parking lot, Enson moved Heero in and set up the IV with more fluids and a fever reducer - exhausting his limited medical knowledge, and feeling uncomfortable with trying anything else.

Checking the time, Enson saw it was only 9:30am. _ Damned with schedules, Winner can meet with me now _Enson decided. Giving Heero's fevered hand a quick squeeze, Enson left the room, and headed to Winner Mansion.

* * *

"Please, Sir, I must insist that you wait. Master Quatre will be with you for his 10am appointed, as you agreed. Please exercise some patience, my master is a very busy man" Rashid said, attempting to hold onto his normal decorum, and gently lead Enson back to the main sitting room.

Enson shoved Rashid's arm off, and turned to face the man, grabbing him by the collar "I am sure you are a good man and very good at what you do. Normally I would not seek to make your life more difficult, but this is not about you or me; this is about a young man in my care who is dying, and I don't have time for etiquette."

Rashid stared at Enson for a moment as he collected himself. "Is this about Mr. Yuy?"

"If that is who he is."

"Is his situation that critical?" Rashid questioned, plainly alarmed.

"I'm no doctor, but I'd say so. If he is not your 'Heero Yuy' I intend to do right by him myself regardless. The lad needs serious care."

"Of course" Rashid said with a small bow. "I will try to locate Master Quatre and his companions, and will have them meet with you as soon as is possible. All soldiers owe their lives to that young man for playing such a large role in bringing about peace; we aren't likely to forget".

Deciding that making a fuss would just waste more time, Enson followed Rashid back to the sitting room, and paced it for the next seven and a half minutes, until a short, blonde young man burst through the door. Clasping the blonde's hand was a tall brunette young man with piercing green eyes. Two more young men followed, both middle height, one distinctly Chinese, and the other had a long chestnut braid cascading down his back, which appeared to be a trademark feature.

The blonde man came towards Enson, hand outstretched, "I am Quatre Raberba Winner. I apologize for keeping you waiting, even with all of us living in the same house it take a minute to get us all together. Must be a side effect of being gundam pilots, we are hard to find."

"You, you are all ex-gundam pilots?" Enson said in surprise, temporarily distracted, "like Andrew?"

"Yes" said Quatre sadly, assuming the spokesperson position. "Can you tell us a bit about Andrew as you know him?"

"That is certainly why I asked to meet with you in this fashion, Mr. Winner. I wanted to exchange information - learn how you know Andrew, what you wanted from him, and why you think he was running away from you. I was going to try and test you, because I care about that Lad, but there isn't time for that just now" Enson paused for a moment and Quatre filled in the silence.

"I'm sorry, not time?" Quatre prompted.

"My Andrew is. . . is very ill suddenly in a way I don't have the means to heal. His life is in danger, and if we don't do something now, he will probably die. There is a lot to be said, but now I need some sign that you are genuine friends of Andrew and intend to help him. It is obvious that you have the means to do it, and if you are all gundam pilots, then you can help him in a way I cannot."

"Did you have something in mind?" asked the braided boy.

"No. I don't know. Convince me you are his friends and you care about his best interest." Enson said, looking down at his hands in frustration. He was so worried that he didn't have the words he needed.

There was a short silence when the four young pilots thought about their friendship with Heero. As if planned, they each began speaking in tandem.

" I'm Duo Maxwell ex 02 gundam pilot - Heero was my partner in many missions during the war. He was a hard person to get to know, because that guy was such a dedicated soldier - but a better and more committed partner in crime I couldn't have asked for. When Heero had my back, I always knew I was safe" Duo ended quietly.

Enson's eyes lit up, Duo _Maxwell_ - Andrew had said his last name was Maxwell. False identities always seemed to have a grounding in reality.

" Trowa Barton, ex pilot 03 - Heero didn't know how to quit" Trowa added, in the same almost reverent tone. "He was fearless. While the rest of us struggled with swallowing the missions were given, Heero had his half-way completed. He taught us the value of human life by sacrificing his own, over and over again."

" Chang Wufei - I had the honor of piloting Nitaku, gundam 05. Heero was driven by his own sense of justice and peace, but was also ridden with his own strong sense of guilt that most of us didn't understand. He believed he had to be the perfect soldier, because we built him up as our hero."

"You are right, Mr. Enson" Quatre said sadly, "as fellow pilots we should have seen Heero's need for fellowship - need to be allowed to be human. We were too busy letting him be a hero to see that, until recently when . . . when we had our eyes opened. We put out a search for Heero so we could find him, and make this wrong right in whatever way we can."

Enson's eyes roamed around the room, meeting the four pairs of eyes staring back at him, all glistening with tears. These proud and caring young men were a far different picture from only two months earlier, when they each stood in shame of their weaknesses. Their search for Heero had brought them together in a new way, where there were no secrets between them. They had learned that there was no room for secrets in their struggle to live in post war life.

"I don't know anyone who could fake your level of affection and care. I think I have to believe you are who you say."

A long silence followed before Quatre prompted gently, "Mr. Enson, what's wrong with Heero?"

Quatre's comment brought Enson back from to the moment and the urgency of the situation. "He seems to have begun a love affair with the bottle - he has a lot of things he is trying to numb and not think about. From what I can tell he has not been drinking for very long, but drinking combined with lack of sleep and malnutrition has apparently been a cruel combination. But even then, it doesn't makes sense. . ."

"What doesn't?"

"The severity of his withdrawal. He collapsed in my shop yesterday evening, which I anticipated was going to happen sooner or later - from lack of sleep and food. But within a couple of hours withdrawal from alcohol had set in - withdrawal with seizures and DTs. He would have had to start drinking as an infant to have this level of withdrawal, and even then. . ." Enson trailed off, his body alert with confusion and fear.

"Damn it!" Duo exclaimed, punching the wall beside him and muttered "fucking Dr. J". Wufei wanted to give Duo a look of disapproval for the outburst, but he had too much empathy for Duo's feelings.

Enson looked to Quatre for an explanation, and saw tears flowing down the young blonde's cheeks. It was Trowa who explained.

"As Gundam pilots, we all underwent a degree of extensive training. However none of our's compared to Dr. J's training of Heero. Heero was bred to be a soldier and a killer from childhood - he doesn't know any other way of life. Dr. J needed an invincible soldier who would always take orders, and sacrifice everything for the mission, so he created Heero. None of us know the entire extent of Heero's training, but he is easily levels above us all in any tests that matter. There was talk, rumor, that Dr. J performed different. . . experiments on Heero, to make him immune or at least tolerate to a variety of pains and poisons."

"When I first met that guy he popped his broken leg back into place with nothing more than a groan and his bare hands" Duo explained, awe of the moment still plain in his words.

"I have no doubt that if he had access to his notes, we would find that Dr. J has, on one way or another, had Heero build up a strong tolerance for alcohol, rendering a normal intake of alcohol as ineffective" Trowa finished.

"Are you saying that Andrew, I mean Heero, has been drinking alcohol as if he has been a drunk his whole life?" Enson asked worriedly.

"I'm afraid so" Quatre said quietly.

"Well then fuck, use all your know how and do something for him before he dies! I brought him with me, he is in a motel in town. Don't you have a doctor or something?"

"Sally is on her way: Wufei said to the collective, as he put down his communicator. Then turning to Enson he said, "Of any other doctor, Sally has the most experience treating us Gundam pilots. She will be here in five minutes. If you would update her on Heero's condition, then lead us to him, I think we all would be very grateful."

Enson was prevented from responding by Duo, who had suddenly grabbed Enson in a bear hug and whispered in his ear. "He's my best friend, thank you for saving his life-like this. I will owe you forever".

Enson was taken aback by Duo's emotion, and the tear tracks down Duo's face. Any last barrier of concern Enson had about these four men having Heero's best interests at heart, shattered.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N - From the Gundam Wing cannon, we know very little about the training Heero went through with Dr. J or the inner workings of Heero's ability to heal his body and function when he is extremely injured. For the purposes of this chapter, and perhaps others to follow, I have used my interpretation of Heero's abilities in this area. I am sorry if it gets too technical. If you have any additional ideas or insight, feel free to share them with me.

Respectful and constructive reviews are always appreciated.

Chapter 06

Heero's mind swam up into consciousness from a deep blue sea of nothingness. He struggled, much to his surprise, to grasp onto any thought or feeling other than the awareness that his mind was now aware. His body felt more heavy and more tired than he recalled ever feeling in his life. Remembering anything before the present moment was agony, and confusion. Heero knew he was, but he wasn't even entirely sure who he was. The experience was so surreal and maddening that all Heero wanted to do was sink back down into the depths of the blue sea, and let it claim him forever.

Suddenly, as if an active revolt to sinking back into nothingness - Heero's body screamed to life, every muscle shrieking an agony he could not silence. With the pain came nausea - intense and urgent. Almost against his will, his eyes shot open, only to be blinded by white light and blurred figures. There were sounds all around him too, but perhaps he was still under water after-all, because every noise was muffled and incoherent.

Heero blinked again and again, each time the room coming more into focus, until he realized with burst of anxiety, that he was in a hospital. Whatever control he had over his stomach escaped him in the anxiety. He only had the presence of mind to lean sideways and off his bed before the waves of sick came, retching themselves out of his already exhausted body. It went on and on until not a single drop of bile was left, and Heero would have gladly thrown up his own heart to get the nausea to pass.

Something cool pressed against his head, and a prickle of pain hit his arm and he realized he was being given a shot, and to his relief the spasms his stomach began ease. Within a minute he had stopped retching and cool hands were guiding his body back down into the bed. Exhaustion he had no will to fight, claimed him.

* * *

"Damn it!" Sally cursed, sponging Heero's fevered head.

"What's wrong?" Trowa asked gently, trying to be the calm to Sally's frustration. Each of the ex-pilots took a 12 hour rotation in helping Sally with Heero, and it was Trowa's turn. Heero had been in a coma-like state for the last two and a half days, rarely conscious, and Sally's round the clock care was starting to wear on her.

"I don't know what to do with your pilots sometimes. I gave Heero benzodiazepines the last time he was lucid enough to swollow to help with his withdrawal, but his body won't keep them down. If he doesn't take it, then the seizures will get worse before they get better. DT's usually peak within the fifth day of withdrawal, but Heero's body is so weak, I am afraid he won't be able to survive the worst of it," Sally finished with a sob.

Before Trowa could come up with something comforting to say, a tired Wufei opened the door, coming to start his assisting shift. Seeing her boyfriend, Sally threw herself into his arms. "Wufei, I don't know what to do. I don't know how to help him."

Wufei was stunned by Sally's defeat, and the pain it was causing the strong woman he loved. He pulled her close to him and rubbed her back gently. "You are doing everything you know, Sally. No one could do any better with Heero. We have put too much weight on his shoulders, but that doesn't mean he isn't still a strong man. If anyone can pull through this, I'd put my money on him. Is there anything more you can do right now?"

"Just keep him safe during the seizures, and pray to whoever you believe in that somewhere he will find the strength to pull through this" Sally sighed in renewed frustration. "I am sure he is in a lot of pain - he is just so resistant to any kind of care I can provide. What the fuck did Dr. J to do him?!"

"Shhhh. You have done so much. Let Trowa and I take care of him for awhile and get some sleep. You yourself just said you can't do anything more for him right now. Do this for you."

"But-"

Wufei put his finger to her lips to silence her. "Do this for me then. . . please. We don't want you getting sick too."

Sally let Wufei hold her for awhile longer, before shaking her head, and leaving the room.

When Sally left, Wufei walked over to Heero's bed, and pulled up a metal stool. Trowa continued sponging Heero's forehead, while he watched Wufei through his bangs.

When he spoke, Wufei's voice was full of angry and sorrow and guilt. "Heero. I don't know how we could have betrayed you as much as we did. You just fooled us so well, you fooled me so well. Even up to the end you were patiently teaching me about war. I built you up to be my great teacher and in doing that I dishonored our friendship, our position as brothers-in-arms by not being there for you. I. . . I am sorry for this injustice" Wufei's voice cracked, and he was rendered temporarily speechless.

Trowa was moved by Wufei's vulnerability while Trowa was still in the room, and felt grateful that Wufei was taking their pact to stop keeping secrets so seriously. Wufei had wanted Sally to leave, so he could have the courage to speak to Heero this way. Trowa had also wanted Sally to step out, because he wasn't sure if she would approve of what Trowa was about to do.

"Agent Yuy, pilot 01," Trowa began in his most clipped and commanding tone, "Your mission is to get better. You do not have permission to die. Only you know how to fix your body now - this is your first priority. Report in three days."

Wufei looked wide-eyes at Trowa in concern, until he heard a quiet mutter from Heero, "mission. . . accepted".

""Shit!" Wufei said in the same whispering tone to Trowa. Trowa smiled back sadly. "I'm not sure this was the right thing to do, but we are all out of right things to do. We need Heero to be okay with being human and this action is counter productive to that end, because I am telling him to keep being inhuman. Yet. . ." Trowa continued, almost inaudible now, "if Heero dies now, we won't have a Heero to help become human".

* * *

Heero's mind wondered in quiet depths of the sea, just below the surface. Everything was just a mist of cloudy, dark blue, twisted with blotched of black and purples. For the first time he could recall, he felt nothing. No overwhelming emotions to quiet, no missions to fail, no masks to keep in place, just silence, quiet, and peace. He wanted to stay here forever, to spend the passing years floating through the darkness. Freedom. Except for this tiny nagging feeling he kept forcing away, a feeling like he was supposed to do something, be somewhere. He wasn't needed. _No_, he told that feeling,_ I am a soldier in an era of peace. I didn't belong in this new world_. This dark peace, this emptiness is all a murderer like himself could deserve, and it was enough - to finally be at peace. . . but for that blasted nagging!

Suddenly, through the depths of his unconscious, Heero heard "Agent_ Yuy, pilot 01,"_ and his senses whirled into alertness. _A mission? Who would talk to me like that these days? _The possibility of him still having some kind of usefulness was too much to ignore. If there was a purpose for him, then maybe he wouldn't need to stay in this sea of blue forever. Maybe there was still more chances for him to atone for the lives he had taken. Heero's ears perked up as the clipped and commanding voice continued, _"Your mission is to get better. You do not have permission to die. Only you know how to fix your body now - this is your first priority. Report in three days."_

Heero felt as though he was blinking in surprise, though he knew his physical eyes were not moving. This was the strangest mission he had ever been given. His physical well-being had never been a factor before. Still, it was a mission, and he knew what he needed to do "_Mission accepted".  
_

Heero's mind shifted from the blue ocean and focused on his body - searching for the cause of his current predicament. Fatigue certainly played a roll, he saw, but all this time in bed should fix that issue. His fuel stores were low, his body was malnourished - there were signs of where his body had begun to digest his muscles for fuel - he would have to stop that right away and get another source of nutrition. _I guess I am going to have to wake up soon. Damn. I guess a soldier doesn't have room for peace anyway. When did I let things get this bad? F_ortunately he was no longer dehydrated, thanks to the efforts of Sally.

Heero addressed his withdrawal symptoms. Focusing on his cerebral cortex, he eased the firing of his neurotransmitters, in effort to address the periodic seizures his body kept feeling. Slowly the muscles in his body began to relax. Going to the pain sensors in his head, he quieted the nerved, effectively shutting down the distraction of his pounding headache. Nausea still clawed at his stomach, but there was little to be done and he would need that nausea before he was done to help rid himself of the remaining alcohol in his system.

Next, Heero moved on to the heart of the problem, which was indeed his heart and his other organs. The pulses of his heart felt weak and tried, just like the rest of him. Sinking deeper still he saw his left ventricle was enlarged, preventing his heart from relaxing as it should. Gently, painstakingly, he eased the excess fluid out of the ventricle, decreasing the swelling, and reducing it back it it's normal size. He felt his mind eye sigh, this was tiring work. He longed to escape back to the blue nothingness - but this was a mission, and he would not fail.

Other than rest, there was one more area of his body Heero need to address - his liver. Dismayed, Heero found that his liver had began to scar and harden, the beginnings of cirrhosis setting in. With intense effort he called for all the water in his body that was available and used it to hydrate his liver while he drew out as much of the excess alcohol he could. Hours passed as Heero worked to bring his liver back to working order. Some damage would inevitably remain, but he was able to bring his liver back to a healthier state. Perhaps he would have time to do research on other methods of treating his liver when he got back to his apartment.

Heero sighed deeply, feeling the most tired he had felt in his life. Though not fully completed, his mission was underway, and now he needed to sleep to complete it. Closing his mental eyes he slipped, not back into the deep blue sea, but into the black silence of sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N - Thank you for the reviews - it makes me happy to know that there are people out there who love this story as much as I do. :) Sorry it took so long for this chapter, it was hard to write. As always, reviews are welcome!

Disclaimer - It's been awhile since I have articulated this, so just in case you weren't 100% sure, I am not at all epic enough to be the owner, creator, or any other way related to the creation of Gundam Wing - all rights go to those amazing people.

Chapter 7

"I don't understand it! In the last two days Heero's seizures have stopped, his body is becoming more rested, and his organs have returned to relative health. How is he doing this?!" Sally exclaimed, examining Heero's charts.

"Be grateful that he can" Wufei said, putting a calming hand on Sally's shoulder.

It was a rare moment when all the pilots were assembled in Heero's hospital room, their assigned missions completed and on temporary leave from new ones. Following their code of no secrets among them, Trowa had told Duo and Quatre what he had said to Heero. Though Trowa had hoped it would help, he never imaged Heero would accomplish this level of healing in such a short time. Heero truly was inhuman as a soldier. _Had he been actively working against his recovery, or is this just what happens when Heero tries? _Trowa wondered. He was pressed with guilt at making it a mission for Heero to survive when it was so plain that surviving was the one thing Heero had no desire to do. The pilots had agreed to not tell Sally what Trowa had said, her bafflement was better than her disappointment or disapproval. Wufei said he would have to tell Sally eventually, as he hated keeping secrets from his Love, but he would respect Trowa by waiting for awhile. Now it was just a matter of waiting to see when Heero was going to wake up.

Enson sat, holding Heero's hand. Despite his need to return to his shop, Enson could not leave this young man who had so quickly become like his own son. He said very little to the gundam pilots or to Sally, and they most often left him alone - a constant guardian over Heero. Enson had been out of the room when Trowa had given Heero his mission to survive, but that was one of the few times Enson had left Heero's side.

Suddenly Heero's slack hand gripped Enson's hard. Enson looked up and saw pain etched on the lines of Heero's face, and a sudden tautness in Heero's body.

"Excuse me?" Enson began, cleaning his throat to get the attention of the others in the room - not liking this new development in the well being of his sergeant son.

* * *

_Heero was fighting with Zechs, conflicted by his feelings of elation at the challenge of fighting this new kind of mobile suit, and a need to finish the battle quickly and return to his mission. Suddenly his attention was diverted by a commanding female voice, and a militant figure appearing on his communication screen._

_'Calling all Gundam pilots - we are now positioned to stage an all out missile attack on the colonies. We have seized all missile satellites from the former alliance. It's reasonable to say we control the destiny of all colonies. This isn't a bluff. I demand all pilots to surrender at once and hand over your Gundam,' the woman finished, malicious triumph in her voice._

_Zechs was demanding that they continue the fight, but Heero sat still, stunned - trying and failing to process this new information. Fear gripped him, and he almost lost his mask of composure. How could he proceed with the mission now? _

_His communicator came to life again, this time with an all too familiar voice, '__Attention Oz. I would never have imagined you people could be so incredibly foolish. The space colonies have no intention of fighting Oz. This is my personal battle that I am staging against you'._

_'Dr J' Heero whispered, his mind alert for new orders as Dr. J continued, 'In your eyes inhuman moves such as attacking the colonies are just, if that's what it takes for you to come out victorious, right? I have no choice but to surrender'._

_Heero swallowed tightly, fear surging in him stronger than ever. A thousand thoughts flooded his mind - was he ready to die? He had never feared death until this moment. No! He was above fear - he would not give into its power. He was trained to surpass fear. Turning his face to stone, he opened his cockpit. He understood this order, and would carry out this last mission. Through his communicator Heero heard Dr. J finish his message, giving orders for the mission Heero had resigned himself to. _

___ 'I surrender, but I will not hand over the gundams. I repeat, _I_ surrender, but I will not hand over the gundams'._

___'Mission. . . accepted' Heero intoned and without another thought, he pushed the self-detonation device on his Gundam - ready to accept the arms of death. Instead it was pain that greeted him, as shrapnel pelted his body. There was a short moment of free fall, during which Heero braced himself for the impact, the final stroke of death. His death would be his last act of atonement for the lives he had already taken. Heero hit the ground with sickening pain, not once, but over and over again like a skipping stone. He grunted, praying to be knocked out by the pain. With each hit the agony mounted, consuming his thoughts: pain, pain pain-_

Heero sat up with a start, breathing hard and fast. Everything was swimming before his eyes, in a blurred swirl of color. He was disoriented by the pain of his dream. _What is real? Where am I_? Panic set in, and rather than gaining control, Heero's anxiety spiraled his already irregular breathing into a panic attack. He clutched his chest, willing his thudding heart to relax. The thudding however only got louder, becoming a rush of noise in his ears. Heero's inability to quiet himself fed his anxiety, and his breathing began to come in shallow rasps. Black spots were coming over his vision again. _ Just let me fucking die _Heero begged the gathering darkness.

Then there was a strong pressure on his shoulders, and another pressure pulling his chin up until his eyes met the bushy mustache and eyebrows of Enson. Before Heero could object or say anything at all, Enson's arms were around him, hugging him in a tight fatherly embrace. "You are going to be okay, Son. Whatever you were dreaming, real or not, it is now over."

Heero's starred at the old man, his cobalt eyes wide, pupils dilated with fear. Heero's gaze darted around the room to see everyone looking at him. The pressure of conflicting emotions made his heart construct in his chest - he had to pull his mask back on, but they had already seen his weakness! How could he have let them see! He struggled with the attempt, but found himself unequal to the task of masking his emotions because half of him was still dying after his gundam self-destruction, and it hurt so damn bad. He wanted to get away, he needed to get away, but they were all here! He couldn't ask them to leave the room without giving away his feelings, but hadn't he already done that? For the first time he could remember, Heero found himself frozen with indecision.

Heero shook in Enson's hold, fighting the urge to curl up into a ball and close his eyes until he believed that this wasn't real. _ How childish, how weak_, he chided himself. _What's wrong with me?!_

A sob rang out in the quiet room, and Heero looked away from Enson to see the source of the sound - Quatre. With tears running down his face Quatre tried to keep any more such sounds of distress contained, but the damage was done. Remembering Quatre's empathy, Heero's feeling of being trapped swamped him - _no matter what I do or where I go, I can't hide from Quatre. _ Abruptly, Heero slid out of the bed, staggered for a minute, ignoring cries of objection and concern, slid the IV out of his arm, and walked over to the window. Heero planted himself on the seat beside the window, using all of his power of will to not look back at the others. Still, Heero found himself straining to hear any sound of movement, any more sobs. He felt himself shrink under the weight of thier stares. He focused on the bird outside his window, and slid unconsciously into the only empty box in his carefully organized mind. _  
_

* * *

They waited in silence for several minutes, all their eyes focused on the figure of Heero framed by the window. Finally Trowa opened his mouth to get Heero's attention, but was silenced by Enson's firm hand on his arm. Looked at the old man Trowa saw Enson shake is head sadly, and Trowa fell silent. As if by a spoken accord they all left the room, preserving the empty silence.

As soon as they entered the busy hospital hallway Quatre collapsed into almost hysterical sobs, staining Trowa's worn brown jacket with dark tear stains. Trowa rubbed Quatre's back and entangled his finger's lovingly in the blonde's hair, but was unable to utter a sound of comfort. Things were not going to be okay any time soon.

The other pilots were not fairing any better than Trowa and Quatre. How could that broken young man be ex-gundam pilot Heero Yuy? How had Heero fallen so far so fast? That look when Heero woke up; he was like a scared child and a frightened animal mixed, vulnerable and wild.

"Is that how Heero was when you found him that night, Trowa?" Duo asked, his voice cracking slightly, all mirth and bounciness torn from him.

"If I had been there a few minutes earlier, I think that is exactly how Heero would have looked. By the time I got there he had worked out some assemblance of control - for the most part I spoke to his mask."

"Have you seen him like this, Mr. Enson?" Sally asked in a kind, and yet commanding voice.

"Just Enson, Ma'am, and no, I haven't. Andr- Heero was very good at hiding what he was experiencing. I knew things were not okay, but I had no idea it was like this." Briefly Enson recounted how he had met Heero, how Heero had come to work for him, and their experiences over the last couple of months together.

When Enson finished his summary there was another wave of silence. Quatre had quelled his tears and everyone had found something to sit on. Finally Wufei broke the silence, saying partly to Sally, partly to the group at large, "So, what do we do now?"

"What can we do?" Duo sighed, his discouragement plain. "The Heero in there doesn't look any more willing to open up than the Heero who decked Trowa in the stomach two months ago. I can't. . . I can't just watch him die. Not him. Not Heero."

"Of course we won't Duo" Sally said firmly. "I think the first thing we have to do is create a place where Heero can feel safe to open up to us about what is going on inside him. Though I think realistically that could take a long time to happen."

"How do we keep him from running again while we do that?" Trowa asked respectfully.

"Give him an occupation, something to do. I think that is the only reason I was able to keep him with me so long" Enson surprised everyone by answering.

"I used to think that was the preventers for Heero, but now it is obvious that is not the best place for him, at least not right now."

"Let me move my shop here. It will take some doing - but that way Heero can still work for me. It is menial work, but he does it well and it will give him something to do while he starts to process his feelings. If he works for me, and lives with you gentleman, perhaps we can form some kind of bridge? I know you all care about him, it's as plain as day, but you will find yourselves very mistaken if you think I will just back out of Heero's life. That lad is like the son I never had. . . I won't leave him." Enson finished, looking down as his feet to hide his emotion.

"That's very kind of you, but I don't think Heero will except you moving your shop for him" Quatre said quietly.

"I'm sure he won't" Enson replied matter-of-factly, "but then again I never intended to give him a choice about it. You say he has no father? Well he is 17 the last time I checked, so if he gives me trouble I am sure I can get you wonderful gentleman to do what you are good at and make me his legal guardian. I don't think it will come to that, but if it does then we will".

The pilots looked slightly stunned at Enson, and many broke out into smiles at the audacity of the old man.

"Okay" said Duo brightly, "so with that settled, how do we make a place for Heero to feel safe?"

"I think we already have figured that out" Quatre said, "when he left. I think, as we continue our rule with each other that there are no secrets, and show Heero, by our actions that we don't betray or judge by those secrets, maybe he can feel safe talking to us?"

"You know that means you will all have to be open about your own war struggles" Sally pointed out mercilessly.

"Yes" said Trowa, getting a sense of Quatre's vision, "but you see we already have been. I think Quatre is right. Since Heero has left, we have established a sense of openness among us pilots. The more we can show that to Heero, the more likely that over time, either by choice or necessity, he will believe us".

"It's worth a shot" Duo agreed.

"We owe him this, and more" Wufei said sorrowfully, "Let's do it".

* * *

Blinking, Heero felt like he as emerging from a trance. His stiff muscles told him he had been in his current position for too long. Giving into curiosity he glanced around the room behind him, to find that he was completely alone. This knowledge brought him conflicting emotions of relief and concern. But over these emotions one thought reigned - he needed a drink.


End file.
